A Hurricane, a Hadron Collider and a Tornado Named Wilson

I’m shaking in my boots (or should I say, my leg cast) today.  Hurricane Ike, the massive killer and daddy of all storms, is headed straight toward the Texas coast and way too close for comfort to the home of one of our kids.  (Be safe, Bob!  Be safe.)  I flip back and forth between CNN and MSNBC just because I can’t keep my eyes off the television and its images of swelling ocean and building winds.

Then there’s the world’s largest particle accelerator buried deep in the earth beneath herds of placid dairy cows grazing on the Swiss-French border.  The idea of this thing is to set two beams of protons traveling in opposite directions through a giant round tunnel, redlining at the speed of light, generating a wicked energy that will mimic the cataclysmic conditions at the beginning of time, then smashing into each other in a furious re-creation of the Big Bang — this time recorded by giant digital cameras.  Whee-doggies!

On Wednesday, they fired this sucker up.  I wonder if they played the theme music from Jaws as they sent those toothy Sarah Barracuda protons out to eat up the earth.  Ba-dum … Ba-dum.

And then there’s Wilson.  My dear sweet Wilson who has his own little toothy grin as he gleefully gnaws his way across baseboards and door casings while I’m impotently stuck on the couch.

Dan:  He’s eating the house.

Me:  He’s nine months old.  He’s teething.

Dan:  He’s EATING.  THE.  HOUSE.

Me:   I can learn carpentry. (I say brightly.)

Dan:  Swell.  A house-eating dog and a wife with a broken leg and her finger on the red button of a power saw.

Me:  Yeah, well you’ll be glad I learned how to saw things if we need to board up against that black hole they’re making.

Dan:  And you’re qualified to stop a black hole?

Me:  May I remind you that I was a PTA member, a Pop Warner football mom, Captain of a cheerleader squad — AND the mayor of a small couch.  Thus, I’m quite qualified to preemptively poke red buttons, thereby nullifying black holes. So read my lipstick, mister.  I’m a heartbeat away.  A heartbeat!

I wonder if the sound of Dan’s hand smacking his forehead is similar to the big-bang explosion they plan to make in that underground tunnel.  I guess we’ll soon know.

In the meantime, again I pray, stay safe Texas.  Stay safe.


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